


spero

by sweetestsight



Series: parallax [8]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: M/M, Solarpunk AU, just fyi it's very brief, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetestsight/pseuds/sweetestsight
Summary: CIVILIANS BE ADVISEDMissing person located on Deneb 3. If you know this man please report to Deneb 3 Outpost Alpha on—And that’s the last he reads of it before his eyes flick lower, because the photo is unmistakably of John.





	spero

“Is that the last of them?” 

Freddie watches through the bridge’s windows as the trail of miners makes their way into the Orion marketplace, Kenny at their head. “That should be all of them, yes,” he says into the radio. “I doubt any would want to stow away on this rusted hunk of metal.”

“It got you this far,” Kana replies, voice crackling through the speaker. “Taking a break before you head back? We should have tea. Some messages have come in for you.”

“Tea? No, I should get back. Forward me everything, alright?”

“I’d rather give it to you in person.”

He pauses in running the shut down sequences. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing at all,” she assures him. “Just sensitive material. I don’t know how secure that old ship of yours is in terms of communications, but I wouldn’t want it getting back to the Guard.”

He hums. “Alright, then. I’ll be down in just a moment. Has Kenny settled with you?”

“Here, Fred,” Kenny replies over the radio. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Copy,” he says, then flicks the radio off.

He runs through the last few checks, flicking off screens as he goes. That’s when he sees it.

The comms is blinking with a message. He frowns and flicks it open.

CIVILIANS BE ADVISED

_Missing person located on Deneb 3. If you know this man please report to Deneb 3 Outpost Alpha on—_

And that’s the last he reads of it before his eyes flick lower, because the photo is unmistakably of John.

Even through the clumsily cleaned blood on his face and the bruises along his cheeks, even through the hastily-tidied mop of his greasy hair, his sunken cheeks, one eye so swollen Freddie doubts it could open even if he was awake, it’s unmistakably him and Freddie feels ill.

A list of characteristics follows. _Birthmark on right hip. Scar on right hand extending toward elbow; 4 inches. Gap between teeth. Grey eyes. Slightly anemic. Severely malnourished. Deep lacerations on left hip. Deep lacerations on back developing severe gangrene. Fractured right humerus. Fractured right ulna. Broken right radius in two places. Dislocated right—_

And then he stops reading before he throws up.

He turns the radio back on quickly and flips to Queen’s channel. “Transporter 67B to Queen,” he says, and his voice comes out shaky and weak. It only adds to his own hysteria, and when he hails them again it comes out as a shout. “Transporter 67B to Queen! Do you copy?!”

The radio crackles with static. “Freddie?” he hears Brian say faintly.

“I don’t know how they’ve done it,” he blubbers. “I don’t know but I can’t just leave him and I know you’ll understand that, okay? I need to go get him. It’s what you would’ve done.”

The radio crackles again. “—pit stop,” Brian gets out. “—mild repairs and—up—”

“Do you understand me? Brimi? Can you hear me?” Freddie calls, then swallows. “They’ve got John.”

Somehow that one seems to get through. “What?” Brian answers, voice soft.

“I can’t leave him. I’m going to Deneb, alright? Even if I’m there just to walk into an ambush it’s what I’m going to do, and I don’t expect you to agree with me on that but I don’t have a choice.” He wipes tears from his cheeks. “I can’t sit here knowing that he’s hurt and that I’m not doing anything. He’d do the same for any one of us.”

Silence greets him.

“Brian?” he calls. “Queen?”

The comms blinks at him again and he turns it on hopefully, only to have his heart sink when Kana’s voice comes through.

“Spero,” Kana says, “are you still in there? Come on down.”

His eyes drift back to the photo of John still displayed on the screen. He can’t tear his eyes away from it, much as he tries. When he opens his mouth no sound comes out, and he swallows hard before he speaks. “They’ve got John.”

She’s silent for a long beat. “I don’t think they do.”

“You knew?”

“I was going to tell you as soon as you came down. I didn’t want you to—”

“To what?!”

“To overreact.”

“They have my,” he starts, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “Do you get it? They’ve _got_ him.”

“They might not.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m not playing odds with that. I can’t. Do you understand me?”

“Just wait. At least wait until we get confirmation, or until backup arrives. Brian and Roger—”

“They aren’t coming. I’m not coming out of this ship. I’m not waiting around. I need to go.”

“Freddie,” she says quietly. “Spero, you need to have hope.”

“ _Fuck_ hope,” he bursts out. He tears his hand off of the console for a moment to wipe angry tears out of his eyes. “Fuck it to hell, honestly. We’ve been hoping all our lives and where has it ever gotten any of us? The people back home, do they have hope?”

“They always have hope.”

“And what good did it do? What good did it do any of them?”

“Hope for Virida, for a future where we can be at peace, that hope is what keeps—”

“Don’t tell me it’s what keeps me going. So help me, don’t do it. Hope hasn’t done anything for anyone.”

“You need to be patient. Your Little One will get out of this.”

“He most certainly won’t on his own,” Freddie snaps, going to the controls and beginning the starting sequences. “I’m not waiting around either way.”

“Freddie,” Kenny tries. “You know this is a trap. You can’t just—”

“I very well fucking can!” he shouts finally. “I can because he needs me to! Don’t you get that? Because nobody else is going there to help him and I’m sure as fuck not going to let him die alone!”

“If you just wait until—”

“I’m not waiting.” He turns back around, sniffing hard against the lump in his throat. “I’m not fucking waiting for another person to solve a problem I can fix. I won’t do it.”

“Freddie—”

“When has anyone solved anything in this entire fucking galaxy, hmm? The mines? The Star’s Needle? Fucking—” he jabs the engine ignition button. “Primus can burn for all I care. It’s going to anyway, and I hope everyone gets off when it does. I hope nobody ever tries to teach lessons about the Old World and Virida and fucking _spero_ again.”

That one’s met with silence.

He doesn’t take a moment to breathe. Maybe he should, but he doesn’t. He lets their uneasy static crackle through the cockpit as he finishes the final ignition sequences. He types the coordinates to Deneb-3 into the navigation monitor.

“Don’t follow me,” he says into the microphone.

“Freddie! Wait!” Kenny shouts.

He jams the throttle down. The landing gear bounces off the sand and within seconds Alnitak-2 is far, far behind him.

He flips the radio to Queen’s channel before Kana and Kenny can try to hail him again. He takes a deep breath before picking up the receiver. “Queen? Queen, this is—this is Freddie. Come in, please.”

He waits for a long moment. There’s no response.

Fuck this shit. Whatever hell Brian and Roger have dug themselves into, he’s coming for them next. First he’s saving John, and then he’s saving the others, and then the four of them are never looking back at this sorry excuse of a galaxy ever again.

He prods the bonds that get steadily more discernible by the day. He goes to Roger’s first, Roger’s which usually leaves a sweetness in his mouth but right now seems vaguely cold. No response.

Brian’s feels like satin, the good stuff that drifts through the market every now and then. When he nudges at it it doesn’t nudge back. He squeezes it. Nothing. That’s nothing particularly unusual—Brian rarely seems to be able to even tell there’s a bond at all unless physical touch is involved, for whatever reason—but still it worries him.

He goes to John’s last, John’s which is glowing soft and warm in the back of his head. It hasn’t stopped doing that.

He shuts his eyes and lets himself sink into it, breathes against it until he’s so entwined with it he doesn’t know where he ends and the bond begins. He gets a faint brush of confusion and wonder in return.

_Tell me you’re safe. Tell me you’re alright. Please tell me something._

_Love you love you love you love you love you,_ he gets in return.

He frowns and nudges it harder. _Where are you? Are you hurt?_

_Hurt fine good why would I hurt are you hurt Freddie hello hello Freddie I’m dreaming Freddie where are you_

John nudges against the bond himself. Freddie can feel it, can feel the giddy motion of it, and that at least is sweet. He reaches out as far as he can, far enough that his head feels dizzy and his body aches.

_You’re hurt._

_Not hurt you’re here I’m not hurt_

A slew of images float into his mind: the two of them laying beneath the trees on a brand-new planet, his own eyes looking back at him, crinkled as he laughs. He can see Roger and Brian wandering through the trees a ways off gathering samples of soil and plants, can see the blue sky overhead. It’s nice.

That’s not the way this memory goes, though; that’s not the way this one plays out. It was mere seconds after this that the pirates arrived and minutes after that that he and John were carried away. He remembers.

Something like doubt flickers through John’s mind. He hears engines in the distance. Roger’s head whips over, eyes wide and panicked.

 _BLUE SPIN AS YOU GO,_ John’s mind begins screaming. It’s so loud Freddie winces and throws a hand against his head. _GROW THE WAY YOU DO. BLUE MILKY WATER WON’T YOU—_

“—Take me,” a woman’s voice says.

Freddie blinks and opens his eyes.

“Wash me in the things you once knew,” she continues. “In the mist of a hazier day...”

Her voice is coming through the radio. He nearly falls when he rushes to reach the console and pick up the microphone.

“They called me to arms and I fought for you.” She clears her throat. “Now—”

“Hello?” he says, voice hoarse.

She goes silent.

“Do you have him?” he asks quietly.

“Finish it,” she says sharply.

His breath is shaky, but his voice has never failed him and it won’t start now. “Now baby blue take me, by dreamer, believer, my little one lives on a planet of blue.”

She’s silent for a long minute before letting out a slow breath. “He sings in his sleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Brown hair, grey eyes, prone to passing out at random?”

“Is he okay?” he asks quickly.

“As far as I can tell he’s just drugged up, but I wasn’t sure. There’s a little medical outpost here for quieter stuff. We put him down.”

“Put him down?”

“Just unconscious. It’s better that we don’t worsen his condition until he has somewhere stable he can recover. Can you provide that?”

“I’ve only ever given him the best I can provide.”

“Good,” she says shortly. “I’m on Deneb-3 in a rural outpost. You can come get him.”

He frowns. “How can I trust you?”

“Because I need out of here too.” 

The navigation panel beeps as he nears Deneb’s airspace. He slows the ship to a halt and allows himself a moment’s pause as he turns that over in his head. “This is an ambush,” he says casually.

“Maybe. It’s not, though.”

“Just because you’re from my planet I’m supposed to trust you?”

“You can trust me.”

“I’m going to need some proof of that.”

The console beeps as a video call comes through, and he hits the receiver. A woman in the Guard’s uniform appears on the screen. She holds up her hands as he grimaces. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not loyal to them.”

“I think you owe me a bit more of an explanation than that,” Freddie says flatly.

“Can’t it wait?”

He stares at her, unwavering.

She sighs. “I joined up to get off of Primus. It’s a free ride.”

“Nobody ever takes that deal.”

“Some people aren’t so lucky to get a ride off with the rebels,” she says, tone a shade accusatory. “Sorry, but it’s true. I heard stories about your lot, and it’s well and good that you got off but those ships only held so many. Some of us got left behind and we had to find a different option.”

“And that option is joining the people who fucked over our planet and left us for dead in the first place?” Freddie retorts with a frown.

“I did what I had to,” she snaps. “I’m sure you’re doing what you have to just coming here.”

He glares at her fiercely, but he can’t think of a good answer to that one.

She sighs, and the camera trembles as she takes hold of it. “Look. Here he is, alright?”

She turns the lens, and just like that there’s John.

He’s laying in bed against clean sheets, and he’d look like he was just sleeping if not for the IV running to his arm. He looks a little less haggard than he did in the mines and a good deal cleaner. His hair is cut differently, cleaned up after the slave runners sheared it messy and short. His skin is smooth and clean.

There’s no blood on his face. There are no bruises. He looks peaceful.

He prods at John’s subconscious just to be sure and gets what feels like a burst of sunshine back. Onscreen John’s fingers twitch.

“The photos they sent out were fabricated,” the woman says, a little unnecessarily. “They doctored them up or something. I don’t know. He was fine when I found him—drugged up and probably fairly malnourished, but he wasn’t injured.”

“He wasn’t hurt?” Freddie murmurs, still watching the rise and fall of John’s chest as he sleeps.

“Not at all. They wanted a reaction. That’s all. I think they knew if there was someone out there who loved him and they saw him like that they’d come no matter what.”

“They were right about that one,” Freddie mutters. He takes a deep breath. “Well then, I suppose I have some passengers to pick up, don’t I?”

“Suppose you do.” The navigation panel pings. “That’s my coordinates coming through. You can’t rig a cloaking device on that ship of yours, can you?”

He shakes his head. “He could,” he says, gesturing to John.

“Not to worry,” she replies with a grimace. “We’ll just have to fudge it. Switch to the military frequency and follow my lead.”

He does, warily.

“Transporter 67B,” her voice says, tone bland. “Reading?”

He frowns. “Copy,” he says into the mic.

“You are free to land. Over.”

The radio crackles as a new voice joins in. “Transporter 67B,” a man says slowly, “this is Deneb 3 Alpha Tower. Belay that order. You are not authorized. Over.”

“Alpha Tower, this is outpost Sigma,” the woman replies. “Transporter 67B is authorized for landing under orders from Senator Prenter. There are some sensitive goods aboard. Over.”

“Alpha to Sigma,” the man replies, “I understand, but according to current security status no vessels are to land on Deneb 3 at this time. All authorized shipments must be received by a local drone. Transporter 67B, standby to be boarded. Over.”

Freddie frowns, pursing his lips. If they try to board him there’s no way he’ll outrun them in this thing, and the game will be up.

“Theta to Alpha,” a new voice says urgently. “Sir, we have movement on the prisoner. Eight ships have entered airspace in the 89th quadrant. Current security status states all drones are to be deployed. This is a yellow alert. Over.”

“Deploy all drones to quadrant 89. This is a code yellow. Alpha Tower, over.”

The woman clears her throat. “Sigma to Alpha.”

“Come in, Sigma,” the man replies, and Freddie smiles when he detects a sigh.

“Alpha, Transporter 67B is carrying time-sensitive goods. If no drones are available for pickup and Transporter 67B is not authorized to land then how—”

“Transporter 67B, this is Deneb 3 Alpha Tower. You have permission to land,” the man all but grunts. “Over.”

Freddie snorts and guides the ship forward into Deneb’s airspace, switching back onto the private channel as he descends to the ground. “How’d you know that would work?”

“I didn’t,” the woman replies, laughing. “You got lucky. That, and their radars are shit. It’s easy to bug them with false readings. We’ve got ten minutes. See the outpost?”

“Yeah, I see you,” he mutters.

The ship lands with a dull clunk, and he pushes the button on the loading bay before jogging out of the bridge and down to the hatch. Sunlight fills the room as the door slowly opens, and there she is, a gurney by her side.

“I never got a name,” he says as he waltzes down the ramp.

“Veronica. Which one are you? Brimi?”

“I’m guessing he talks in his sleep as well?” he asks. “It’s Freddie, darling.”

“It suits you.”

“Ta.” He stops beside the gurney, peering at John’s sleeping face. “Hello, love.”

_Freddie._

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs with a smile. “Let’s get you inside.”

It’s only later, much much later with John tucked into bed in their quarters and Veronica asleep in the bench on the bridge, Freddie sitting at the console and trying not to bite his nails as they head in the direction of Alnitak, that he feels it.

It’s a thread of something. It’s barely even palpable, really, but somehow overwhelming all the same.

He switches on the autopilot before jumping out of his chair, ignoring Veronica’s sleepy question as he runs out of the bridge and down the hall.

It gets louder and louder and _more_ as he draws closer, and by the time he’s through the door and at John’s side it’s all he can do to think around it: heady, dizzying _elation._

He takes John’s hand in his own and allows their thoughts to twirl together into one, takes John’s eager giddiness and wraps it in his own as together they reach out toward the burning bright sun and—

 _Roger,_ John breathes.

They don’t get one coherent thought back; instead it’s a searing-hot wave of happiness so overwhelming Freddie can feel it in his own stomach; so strong he can’t help but laugh. He pushes back at it. _Slow down._

All that gets them is a feeling vaguely like slamming the brakes too hard in a speeder, or maybe the tingle of a sunburn the night after a day out.

 _Roger, love_ , Freddie offers, _put a hand on Brian, will you?_

There’s a vague trickle of confusion and then all at once Freddie feels him, smooth like cool scales, bubbly like carbonation, sliding against the three of them and settling there. _Love love my loves I love love love love—_

Freddie can’t help but laugh as John hums in his sleep and offers up what can only be described as the feeling of twirling rapidly on unsteady feet.

Brian goes silent for a minute as if he’s focusing, and then a string of coordinates appear in Freddie’s mind’s eye. _Come. Come here come come on bring everyone come on_

 _What is it?_ Freddie asks.

_We found it. We found it._

“Freddie?” Veronica calls.

He opens his eyes and turns to see her hovering in the doorway. “Got a tablet?” he asks.

She nods.

“Take down these coordinates,” he says, rattling them off.

She types them in, brow furrowing. “What are they? Where are we going?”

“It’s Virida,” he says, then smiles and runs a thumb across John’s hand as she gasps. “They found it. They actually found it. We’re going home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shady's back, tell a friend
> 
> Guys thanks to all of you beautiful people still reading this shit. Can’t believe we’re almost done but there’s probably only one part after this unless I do a prequel or two!!! Incredible!!! 
> 
> Anyone got a writing discord? Anyone interested in me potentially starting one? hmu, let's chat
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I spend a lot of time writing these silly things and it makes it all worth it knowing what people liked (or severely hated, actually)—I love hearing from you all and it makes my life complete. 
> 
> tumblr @justqueenthoughts


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